


Life Kinda Sucks Arse, Doesn't It?

by SavvyHon



Category: Undertale (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Death, Depression, Developing Friendships, Dirty Jokes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Nerdiness, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overprotective, Papyrus (Undertale) Knows More Than He Lets On, Past Abuse, Protective Alphys (Undertale), Protective Undyne (Undertale), Puns & Word Play, Sans (Undertale) Being an Asshole, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Shipper Frisk (Undertale), Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Teacher Toriel (Undertale), Tiny Sean McLoughlin, Undertale Spoilers, Unhealthy Relationships, Video & Computer Games, also, asgore - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-29 03:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavvyHon/pseuds/SavvyHon
Summary: Sean was tired. He wanted to give up and embrace death like the dear friend he'd lost. He stopped caring about everything... And then his life changes one day, but the question stands...Will he bloom, or will he wilt further?





	1. Stage 1: Shock

Sean felt like he had a decent life, at the very least.

 

Family who gave a shit about him. ~~That's a joke~~. Friends who give a shit about him. ~~They live so many miles away~~. A well-paying career as a Youtuber, with fans who give a shit about him. ~~He hardly knows any of them.~~  

 

Life was pretty good for him. Or at least, that's what he thought...

 

The world wants nothing more than to tear the optimistic and innocents ones apart and kick them into the mud when they're already down. This was obvious enough for anyone who's ever been beaten down. And on a particular summer night, Sean came to realize this as well.

 

The summer night that his very best friend and role model, Mark Fischbach, was murdered right in front of him while he stood there. Helplessly. Uselessly.

 

...It had just been a normal day for the two. Mark had come to visit Sean to catch up on shit since they've been too busy to plan anything together, and he'd decided to stay for about a week. Unfortunately, they'd been heading to the airport after the fun-filled week's end when this occurred.

 

Sean wished it had all been just a bad dream, but he knew it wouldn't ever be granted

 

Because that's just not how life works.

 

* * *

 

_Laughter hung loud and proud in the air as the two unkempt grown men made their way through the bustling town and toward the airport so Mark could take his flight home. It had been one hell of a week, and Sean was sad that Mark had to go._

_But hey, he had gotten to spend time with him, and that's what mattered. A whole WEEK, too! Not everybody got THAT lucky!_

_"Nonononononono-- you're supposed to do it like THIS." Mark took off the Irishman's flat-cap, and tried to turn it backwards on his head like a regular hat, but Sean rolled his eyes and tried to get his favorite hat back._

_"You aren't supposed to wear flat-caps backward-- oh, for the love of fuck, gimme it back, you bastard whore!" Sean punched the muscular man in the shoulder when he raised it high as he could above his head. "You arse! You know I ain't that fuckin' tall!"_

_"Aw, is the Irish potato mad?" Mark teased, wiggling the hat tauntingly in front of his friend's naturally-pale face for a moment, before holding it back up when his hand shot out to grab it._

_"Yes, dammit!" Despite his annoyance at his height being poked fun at, Sean was struggling against the urge to let his angry facade fall into amusement, and began raining punches on Mark's chest. "Maaaaaaark!"_

_"Come on, Jackaboy, why are you hiding that stunning green hair from the world? We want to see that fluffy masterpiece!" Mark ruffled Sean's hair, and snickered when his hand was slapped away with narrowed blue eyes._

_"Goddammit, Mark!"_

_"Fine, fine." The Korean man gave in with a semi-reluctant huff of defeat, plopping the hat onto his friend's head carelessly, but Sean just fixed it, rolling his bright blue eyes yet again with an amused laugh at the other's antics. Mark was such a damn dork._

_They continued walking along the sidewalk, joking and non-sexually fucking around as per usual, their laughter tickling the still, brisk air that had taken over after sunset, and their smiles so wide and sincere that the few people they passed couldn't help but laugh or at least smile when they passed, some people's day-- or night in this case-- being brightened by the two._

_But as they came across an alleyway, Mark froze, his warm brown eyes scanning the starved darkness with a frown tugging down the corners of his lips._

_"...Er... What's wrong, Mark?"_

_"Shh... Do you hear that?"_

_Sean frowned in concern, but listened hard for what his friend was hearing. It couldn't be good if Mark actually sounded and looked so serious..._

_...Click. Click. Click..._

_He tensed, immediately recognizing the sound as a gun being reloaded._

_Then there was quiet sobbing from within the darkness, and an equally-as quiet voice spoke up shakily. "P-please, don't kill me, mister..! I-I don't... I don't wanna die..." It was a child, Sean concluded, with horror and disgust forming a pit in his stomach._

_Sean panicked when Mark suddenly just stormed right into the alleyway with rage burning in his eyes, darkening the rich brown beyond what he thought was possible. Almost... black. He rushed after his friend, his breathing heavy and quick, and his palms sweaty as he struggled to get his phone out to make a call to the police. He hated this coldness he suddenly felt. He hated this fear. He hated this situation. He hated it all._

_There was a strange man holding a gun to a little girl's head that greeted him when his eyes adjusted to the dark. The man was completely unidentifiable, as he was covered head to toe in clothes-- he even wore a MASK. The only reason he was able to identify him as a man is because of the body structure, and the heavy, staggering breaths the man took in. The child herself... She looked far too familiar to him. It seemed Mark found her familiar too, because he froze for just a moment._

_That pause, no matter how brief it was, gave the man enough time to turn his gun on the two and shoot at them._

_Mark snapped out of it just in time to knock Sean out of the way of the bullet... b_ _ut it hit his best friend right in the chest._

_Something in Sean shattered at that very moment. Something that could never be fixed or merely replaced. There was a painful ache somewhere within his chest, as if it were he who had gotten shot, and Sean subconsciously raised a hand to check for the wound. Nothing, much to his disappointment._

 

_He barely noticed when the child broke free from the man's tight grip and ran over to Sean, collapsing in front of him and wrapping their tiny arms around him, sobbing out quiet apologies that he could barely decipher. He barely noticed when the faint sound of sirens began to creep close, closer, yet closer. He barely noticed when the man tried to escape, only to be stopped by an odd force. Out of the corner of his eye and soon pushed to the back of his mind, he'd seen a flash of blue._

 

_Nothing mattered to him at this moment as his eyes locked onto the motionless body of who had become his best friend, and the very same man now had blood trickling from the corners of his mouth and steadily pouring from his chest, forming a sticky red puddle around him. The stench of blood was all he could make out._

 

_Mark didn't have a look of fear on his face like most people would have, and that's what broke Sean the most. Instead of the fear or anger most would expect, there was an_ _odd calmness-- like he knew this was going to happen, as if he were okay with his life being cut short._

 

_Sean felt his lips move and his voice box vibrate as he spoke up. He didn't know what he had said, but as tears blurred his vision of the man he had come to admire more than anyone else, he didn't give a damn. It was wrong. It was wrong. Everything, all of this. It was WRONG. Mark can't be dead-- he had so much to live for-- he had so many hopes and dreams-- he had so much to give to the world-- it shouldn't have been Mark, it--_

 

_The child clung onto him tightly for a few moments more, before a deep voice muttered something to her, and she let go and stood up, walking out of his line of vision. He heard an odd popping sound, then the horrible silence came to haunt him once again._

 

_The last thing Sean saw before he was shouted at and then manhandled upon offering no response was the slight smile on Mark's face and his closed eyes, as if he were merely sleeping. He would never wake up from this, Sean knew. Another sharp pain shot through his chest as he bitterly cried out what he knew was the truth._

 

* * *

 

 

Sean woke up with a sharp gasp, and it was only then he hazily noticed his girlfriend was hugging him close, running her fingers through his hair and uttering soft words of comfort into his ear. 

 

"Shh... It's okay, babe... You're fine..."

 

He wrapped his arms around her and hid his face in the crook of her neck, shaking slightly as he tried to calm down, muttering the words "I'm sorry" over and over to the woman who's had to deal with his pathetic bullshit for years now.

 

"You're going to get better, Sean..."

 

A slight chill raced down his spine at the words.


	2. Stage 2: Isolation

It was a beautiful day outside today, what with the birds singing as they danced around the trees and in the air, the flowers blooming under the summer sun's relentless love, the kids' cheers as they took advantage of the new warmth, but Sean wasn't outside to enjoy it all. Don't get him wrong, he isn't anti-social. At least, he hadn't been, but by noticing how he'd been hiding inside his house for the past eight months and very occasionally coming out, one would probably assume he had become a recluse or something.

 

_Eight months... Just eight months?.._

 

Sean McLoughlin, known famously as a Youtuber named Jacksepticeye, had always been a beaming, excited young man with hopes and dreams to rival that of a child's, yet his eyes and mind were sharp enough to rival that of a scientist's. Granted, maybe not one of the bigger-league scientist's... Those guys are fucking insane, man.

 

He had always been the one to encourage people to be their best. He had always been the one to cheer people up. He had always been the one to always be smiling. To always be happy, except when he addressed certain topics, where people saw his more serious side.

 

So if someone were to say Sean would turn into this huge black hole of the same happiness and energy he'd always been radiating... Well, nobody would believe that person. Simple as that. But guess what? Out of all the odds... That person would be right.

 

Nowadays, all he did was lock all the doors, close the curtains, turn off all the lights, and just slink around the house shrouded in darkness. His house got insanely dark once all of that was done, and not even the slightest amount of sunlight made it into the house, much to his surprise. He had half a mind to question that logic, because it's not like he had some mega-blackout curtains or anything-- it would be fucking awesome, but that's besides the point-- so while he appreciates it, his curtains shouldn't block out so much sunlight.

 

But the problem is, he just doesn't care anymore. About... anything.

 

Here on the floor of his darkened bedroom he sat, cross-legged and hunched over with his back facing the door, shoulders shaking and breath hitching every once in a while, followed by the occasional sniffle. The room wasn't as much as a mess as you might expect it to be, but that's all thanks to his girlfriend. Not saying she herself cleaned it up, but...

 

Well, she encouraged him to clean the mess up when he made one, so his house was a mess-free zone.

 

Sean lifted his head a bit, tears still drip, dripping down the unhealthily pale skin on his equally-as unhealthily gaunt face. And with a shaky breath, he got to his feet, staggering a bit at the sudden dizzy spell. 

 

When his vision gradually ceased spinning, Sean quietly spoke up, the quiet croak that passed his chapped lips a far cry from the shouting he usually exhibits in videos or in the recently-rare occasions he would go out and talk to someone. ~~He didn't dare shout around (Name), because she hated it when he shouted~~. All to make them not worry about him. 

 

"I could'a done somethin'..."

 

The words shook in the empty air like they were afraid to stay, and upon realizing this, Sean repeated it with more and more conviction, forcing the words to stay in the air, to be fully memorized, because it was true. He had done nothing to help. He had done nothing to stop it. He had been USELESS.

 

...No matter how hard he would try, he would always remember that night in one way or another. Every time he blinked or closed his eyes to sleep, every time he breathed in, every time he ate or drank something...

 

It always came back to torment his already broken mind.

 

He had never been a perfect pretty boy with a perfect pretty backstory, that much was for certain. For some reason, he found himself struggling with depression his entire life, because as soon as his friends left, he was alone. As soon as he exited out of Youtube, he was alone. As soon as he finished a book, he was alone. As soon as he stopped recording...

 

Sean was alone. So, so alone...

 

Painfully alone... Alone enough for the voices to start coming and bugging him. Alone enough for the memories to display behind his eyelids when his eyes were closed. Alone enough for his depression to throb painfully under his long sleeves and pants legs.

 

_It doesn't matter... I deserve it... It's all my fault..._

 

The calm, content look of his dead best friend's rapidly-paling face flashed behind his eyelids when he tried to blink away the tears, and another sob shook his small frame upon remembering the clear, ear-piercing bang of the gun being shot, the sickening crack as a bullet broke past bone, and the foul, overwhelming stench of iron, mixing unpleasantly with the stink of the alleyway.

 

Why did Mark do that? Why did Mark push him out of the way?!

 

_I just don't understand why Mark gave away his life away to protect MINE, because HE has something to live for, HE has family and friends nearby who love him, HE was HAPPY!.. Unlike me..._

 

Salt touched his tongue as he opened his mouth to a frustrated mix between a sob and a cry, kicking his drawer with force that a bare foot couldn't handle. 

 

CRACK!

 

Tears blurring his vision, Sean glanced down to see what the source of the crack was, and hesitated when he saw the picture on the ground.

 

With a shaky sigh, the Irishman crouched down and grabbed the picture by its wooden frame, and carefully turned it around.

 

Behind the shattered glass, there was a story. Not told with words, but with a frozen action.

 

In this picture, Sean was on his back on a carpeted ground, arms pinned down by a pretty brunette woman and a curly-haired, beanie-donning man, with another man straddling his hips, fingers frozen in the act of digging into his sides mercilessly. The two brunettes holding his arms down-- Signe Hansen and Tyler Scheid-- were smirking in glee at the red-faced mess of laughter that had been Sean. Mark himself-- the man straddling him, which would've been awkward and suggestive if it wasn't for how close they were as friends-- was beaming, because he'd gotten his small friend to laugh. Chica was frozen mid-lick to Sean's neck, as if she'd known what had been happening, and had decided to assist in the breaking down of the loud Irishman.

 

A weak chuckle rasped in his throat as he stared at the happy faces.

 

...Mark had been so proud of himself for getting Sean to laugh and squeal like a schoolgirl freaking out over her crush.

 

All of them had been, actually.

 

Bob Muyskens, the one who'd been holding the camera, had been laughing his happy ass off while he recorded it. Wade Barnes, who had taken the picture, had made sure to poke fun at Sean afterward, giggling at the high-pitched squeaks the man would make as he practically jumped a mile away from the offending finger.

 

This picture had been taken when they all gathered at Mark's house for... what was it again? It was for some sort of event, but Sean couldn't even remember what that event was anymore. Maybe it was a charity thing..?

 

A frown of confusion marred his face as his memory failed him, but he shook his head, propping the picture back up on the drawer, then picking up the little pieces of glass. Sean ignored the pressure building up behind his eyes, ignored the chainsaw ripping his heart apart, ignored the blood that beaded up and began flowing as he tightened his grip on the shards.

 

"...It's in the past now, Sean. You lost your chance..." He muttered harshly to himself as he tossed the shards on the drawer to deal with later. 

 

Sean picked out some fresh clothes-- his favorite blue hoodie with the ends of the drawstrings chewed on, a plain black shirt underneath, a pair of stretchy light jeans with holes patching them, and scuffed-up sneakers that looked like they've gone through hell and back-- and headed into his bathroom connected to his bedroom, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

 

Setting the fresh clothes down on the counter, he began to strip off the filthy clothes and toss them into a white basket in the corner. He winced at the smallest movements of his fingers, now regretting holding onto the glass shards so tightly. To be honest, he didn't know if he could've even stopped himself, because it had been a subconscious action.

 

Shrugging off the slight stings, he turned the water on as hot as he could get it, and stepped in, wincing at the quick transfer from cold to hot. 

 

It was scalding hot.

 

That's just how he liked it.

 

Sean grabbed the blade of his razor, and glanced over it for a moment, admiring how it's been standing strong for so long without even starting to rust or anything. Truly, it had been loyal to him for the eight months he's been using it, and that's just for its proper use.

 

...It was about time he made another one. It's been a week, and he's been itching. Itching to do this again.

 

Besides...

 

What good boy doesn't make sure his sins are remembered and don't happen again?..

 

He had the perfect idea this time around.

 

After feeling around for a good grip on the blade, he smiled and brought it down upon his skin.

 

...The water that went down the drain was pink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And it kept growing dark, darker, yet darker.


End file.
